Page 38 of Harrison Hyde and the Runaway Bride

She pursed her lips, which made him look at them, which made him think about kissing her. Then she said, “How long would that take?”

He shook his head, doing internal calculations. “Weeks.”

“Do you think it would be too late?”

“I do.”

She grinned and it felt like sunshine. “You did it again.”

“Did what again,” he asked, a little bit lost in her light.

“Said ‘I do’ to a runaway bride. You’d best stop teasin’ me, or I might start to think you mean it.” She slid off the bed. “Imma take the glasses downstairs,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

He nodded and watched her go. When she closed the door, he closed his eyes and blew every bit of air out of his lungs. Instead of passing, his attraction to her was getting bigger every minute he spent in her presence. And she knew it. He’d revealed it all with that kiss.

He’d wanted more. To keep on kissing. To do more than kissing. So, now what?

His text-alert chimed, saving him from having to think too hard about that question just then. When he saw that the text was from his research partner Carrie’s husband, his heart tripped over its own beat.

John Sayre: The blood on the safe was hers. It was Carrie’s

Harrison: Oh no. I’m sorry. What can I do, John? What do you need? Are you with someone?

John Sayre: There is no one.

Maria exited Harry’s room, leaned back against the door, and pressed her free hand to her heart, which was racing. Hedidwant her, too! Hedidfeel all the same things she did. He’d told her every bit of it with that kiss.

“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh,” she whispered. She wanted him so much, and yet she was scared to trust her ownjudgment, after barely avoiding the disaster of marrying Billy Bob.

She should’ve kept on kissing him. She shouldn’t have freaked out. Maybe now he wouldn’t try again.

She leaned off the door and headed for the stairs, but she hadn’t got very far when Harry called her name. She turned, saw his face as he leaned out the open bedroom door, and knew something was wrong. She set the root beer mugs on a nearby stand and started back as he came toward her. They met halfway in the hall, and he showed her his phone screen.

Shock rippled through her, and it must have been far worse for him. The blood on the safe door was Carrie’s. She put a hand on his shoulder. “It was only a little bit, though,” she said. “She might still be okay.”

“Solomon wasn’t,” he said softly.

Willow came up the stairs and joined their huddle. “DNA results on that blood from the safe are in.”

“I know,” Harry said. “Carrie’s husband texted me. He’s terrified. I don’t think he’d heard about Solomon yet, and I didn’t think it would do any good to tell him.”

“If Carrie Sayre is alive, we’ll find her,” Willow promised.

“What if they’re looking in the wrong place, though?” Harry asked. “Whoever did this… washere.”

“Looking for you,” Maria said, and the notion sent a shiver up her spine.

“Or for the prototype, which they got,” Harry said.

“Or for both,” Maria argued. “They’d have grabbed you, too, if you hadn’t been busy gettin’ your face punched in at the time.

He rubbed his jaw like a reflex. “Maybe I should thank Billy Bob, huh?”

“I hope you’re kiddin’,” Willow said.

“He’s kiddin’.” Maria sighed. “Willow, has there been any sign of the fourth partner? Robert Philipson?”

“No sign of him,” Willow said. “He’d booked a flight into Silver City but never used the ticket. His car is in his driveway. The last transaction on any of his bank accounts or debit cards was two days ago.”

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